


Good Fortune

by triste



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 09:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because he loves him, but also because nearly a decade of being with Ryouta has worn away most of his resistance, Tetsuya is indulgent, and Ryouta adores him for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Fortune

Title: Good Fortune  
Author: Triste  
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke  
Pairing: Kise/Kuroko  
Rating: PG-13  
Status: Complete  
Disclaimer: Not mine

~~

**One.**

There are some moments, Ryouta thinks as he stares at the monitor, that are simply magical, that he’ll never forget. Seeing the signs of life for the first time, hearing the sound of a heartbeat, so small and yet so strong... It’s amazing, all of it, and he can’t stand to keep all this happiness to himself. He has to share it with other people, which is why he makes copies of the ultrasound scan picture for everyone he knows.

“It’s a blob,” Aomine says, unimpressed.

“That’s my child, you asshole,” Ryouta snaps, but it’s impossible for him to stay upset for long. He’s just too full of pride and joy.

“Whatever. I still can’t tell what it’s supposed to be.”

“It’s the most precious thing in my entire world,” Ryouta declares, so blissful he feels like he might float away on a cloud of euphoria at any minute. “Along with my most important person, of course.”

He could go on at great length about how much he loves Tetsuya and the tiny miracle that they’ve created together, but he’s a busy man and there aren’t enough hours in the day for him to devote to just one person when he has at least another fifteen to visit.

“I can see it already,” Kagami groans, as Ryouta waves the picture in his face with a cheerfulness that borders on delirium. “You’re going to be even worse when the kid is actually born, aren’t you?” Either he can read minds or he’s smarter than he looks, because the first thing Ryouta did upon learning about Tetsuya’s pregnancy was to invest in a state of the art digital camera, and he plans on putting it to very good use.

“Don’t worry,” Ryouta reassures him, “I’ll make sure to send you every single photograph from now on at least twice.”

“Oh god.” Kagami buries his face in his hands. “I’m going to regret agreeing to be a godfather.”

Kasamatu’s reaction isn’t as positive as Ryouta would like, either, and he doesn’t understand why nobody else seems to share his overwhelming enthusiasm. “I got this picture in a text,” he reminds Ryouta, his expression a mixture of annoyance and resignation, “only forty minutes ago, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“But this is better!” Ryouta insists. “It’s a *real* picture, not a bunch of pixels on a cell phone. You can hold it in your hands and admire it and kiss it and–”

For the sake of his sanity, Kasamatsu stops listening.

 

**Two.**

Satsuki has forgiven him (mostly) for stealing Tetsuya away from under her nose, and now Ryouta’s former rival in love gets along with him so well that the two of them can go out shopping together, which is good because Tetsuya’s swollen ankles prevent him from walking around crowded malls for hours on end these days, and anyway, he’s babysitting Aomine who would rather, as he bluntly put it, stab himself in the eyes with chopsticks than coo over children’s clothes.

“Look at this one,” Satsuki exclaims, holding up a little blue romper suit. “Isn’t it the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen? And these!” she adds, maternal instincts going into overdrive as she points out a matching pair of socks and mittens, “They’re so *tiny*!”

She talks Ryouta into spending an absurd amount of money, not that he needs the encouragement, and he knows he’ll get in trouble with Tetsuya when he arrives home, but he’s far too happy to care.

“I’m so jealous,” Satsuki sighs later, over coffee and cake. “It’s bad enough that you won Tetsu-kun’s heart, but I still can’t believe he’s having your baby. Just how much good fortune were you born with?”

Ryouta wonders that himself sometimes, but he’s not about to let it slip away. He’s going to hang on to it with everything he’s got, which is why he consults the complicated-looking chart Midorima has plotted for him about star signs and planetary alignment with an almost religious fervour, and why the house is full of charms, wards, power stones and various lucky items for Gemini and Aquarius to keep Tetsuya’s pregnancy protected and safe from harm. 

“As an apology,” Ryouta says, thumbing through the impressive number of pictures on his cell phone (most of them taken without Tetsuya’s consent, but it’s okay, he’d never show Satsuki anything too risqué, because that collection is for his eyes only), “I’ll text you the latest photo I took this morning.”

Satsuki leans across the table, making the same expression that Ryouta is pretty sure he wears whenever he’s in full on fawning mode when she sees the picture of Tetsuya cooking curry and wearing Ryouta’s favourite apron, the red one, that shows off his baby bump so charmingly.

“Send it,” Satsuki orders, waving her phone to stress her impatience. “Send it *now*.”

 

**Three.**

Ryouta never runs out of things to talk about in interviews, and this time is no different. It’s a good thing the journalist has brought a recording device along, because he fully intends for them to print every last word that comes out of his mouth.

“As I was saying,” he gushes, unable to stop smiling (and it’s not just for the camera, he’s been doing it all day), “Tetsuya’s sex appeal has increased ever since he became pregnant, not that he wasn’t sexy before, because he was, but it’s like... oh my god, I just... He’s so molestable I can’t handle it, and I don’t know if it’s hormones or what, but pregnancy has been making him really horny these days – does it do that to everyone, or is it just him? – and anyway, our sex life has been absolutely amazing ever since. I mean, it was great before, don’t get me wrong, but now it’s even better, and I didn’t think that was actually possible, but it’s like he wants me to make love to him all the time, it’s incredible, and then–”

“Kise-san,” the journalist interrupts, somewhat nervously, “I’m not sure you should be divulging such details about your partner without his knowledge.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Ryouta replies, dismissive. “Ask me anything!”

“Even so, I don’t believe this subject is... entirely appropriate. You know, given that we’re supposed to be discussing the winter collection.”

“But you have to understand,” Ryouta continues, having long since lost interest in what he’s been modelling all morning, “I’m the luckiest guy in the world, so I can’t help feeling sorry for everyone who’s not married to Tetsuya, which is, well, the rest of the planet’s population I guess, because he’s just so *perfect*, and did I tell you about when he...”

~~

“What,” asks Tetsuya, his face darkening as he finishes skimming the contents of the article Ryouta presents him with a flourish, “is this?”

Despite having been married to Tetsuya for the past four years, and knowing him for three more before that, Ryouta still hasn’t managed to spot the danger signs yet that let him know when Tetsuya’s tolerance has reached breaking point.

“It’s my newest interview,” he announces brightly. “I thought you’d like it if I–”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, and he’s left seeing stars as Tetsuya, moving with an impressive speed for a person in their fifth month of pregnancy, rolls up the magazine and smacks him on the head with it.

 

**Four.**

Ryouta is obsessed with Tetsuya’s growing belly. He’s been obsessed with the man himself for years, but this is different. It never fails to amaze him every time he sees it. He just can’t get enough of looking at it or, more importantly, touching it.

Tetsuya, as always, tells him he’s being ridiculous, but that doesn’t do anything to change Ryouta’s fascination, even when Tetsuya accuses him of having developed a fetish, and Ryouta can’t deny it, but he’s not ashamed either. Because he loves him, but also because nearly a decade of being with Ryouta has worn away most of his resistance, Tetsuya is indulgent, and Ryouta adores him for it.

Like now, with Tetsuya leaning against the headboard of the bed, pillows piled up behind his back to keep him comfortable as Ryouta rubs stretch mark cream into his stomach. It’s something he can spend hours doing, if Tetsuya is willing to let him, warming up the sweet-smelling substance between his hands first before smoothing it into Tetsuya’s skin, more of a massage than anything else, but also a way for Ryouta to show his adoration.

Sometimes he gets so absorbed in what he’s doing that he forgets how sensitive Tetsuya has become, how easily it is to stimulate him, that the slightest little thing is enough now to get him aroused, but then all Ryouta has to do to remember is look up at his face and see how much his touch affects him, his scent, his proximity.

It’s such a turn-on that it makes Ryouta want to keep Tetsuya permanently pregnant, because he’s just so hot when he’s horny and shameless about it.

“I don’t think,” Tetsuya says, panting, as Ryouta, three fingers in, kisses the curve of his ear, “that stretch mark cream was intended for this purpose.”

It doesn’t matter, because it’s doing a great job of getting him ready for Ryouta’s cock, and he wouldn’t be guiding it inside if he’d really felt like complaining, because he wants this even more than Ryouta, and Ryouta wants this a *lot*.

Tetsuya worries, occasionally, that he’s getting too heavy, too cumbersome, but Ryouta reassures him that he’s not, that he’s sexy and he’s gorgeous and, more importantly, that Tetsuya is his, no one else’s, and that sex, no matter how big Tetsuya’s belly gets, will never be too much trouble, as far as Ryouta is concerned.

 

**Five.**

It’s the longest hour of Ryouta’s life. He’s never been a religious man, but he finds himself praying for Tetsuya’s safety, for that of their child’s. He doesn’t pace, doesn’t tap his foot restlessly, doesn’t even move except to bow his head and clasp his hands together.

The ticking of the clock in the hallway seems magnified, the sound of it echoing in Ryouta’s ears, making him feel like he’s about to go out of his mind with worry, but he can’t. He made a promise.

He has to stay strong.

He tries not to think about what’s going on behind closed doors, tries not to think about all the things that could go wrong, tries not to think about anything other than seeing Tetsuya again when it’s over.

He doesn’t relax, not when the red light above the theatre goes out, not when the doctors tell him the surgery has been a success, not even when they place his son in his arms for the very first time.

It’ll take time before Tetsuya starts to come round, they say, but it passes by far too slowly as Ryouta sits by his bedside. His left hand, when Ryouta reaches for it, is cold, so he warms it up by lifting it to his cheek, kissing it tenderly, wishing Tetsuya’s fingers would move, would curl around his own and squeeze to let him know that everything is going to be all right. He looks so small and fragile, his skin almost as white as the hospital sheets, and it scares Ryouta because it just doesn’t feel right to see him like this, so vulnerable and defenceless. 

It’s only when Tetsuya opens his eyes that the tension finally eases, that the anxiety disappears, and Ryouta breathes out a sigh of relief. He’s tired and in pain, but he manages to smile, manages to link his fingers with Ryouta’s.

“I’m back,” he says, and they’re the words Ryouta has been waiting to hear all this time.

Only then does he let the tears fall.


End file.
